


Mellifluous

by tinyinkspots



Series: The Ballad of Irvdryn Indoril [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Beginnings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:14:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinyinkspots/pseuds/tinyinkspots
Summary: She looked down at him as she stood, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry.“Vorstag.”“Irvdryn Indoril.  In the morning then, Vorstag.”  Without any more preamble, she shouldered her packs and disappeared down one of the hallways.  Vorstag turned in his seat, slightly bewildered at this new Dunmer woman.  As he swung back around to the fire, he couldn’t help but wonder —with no small thrill of excitement— what he’d just gotten himself into.
Series: The Ballad of Irvdryn Indoril [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014636
Kudos: 4





	Mellifluous

**Author's Note:**

> This has long been a passion project of mine - a writing exercise to practice long-term character and relationship development, and after over a year of telling myself to write Indoril's tale from the beginning, I realized it wasn't happening, and life's too short to note begin publishing the pieces that I do have. If you've found your way here, thanks for taking a few moments to read something that means a lot to me. :)

She blew into the Silver Blood Inn like a storm contained, crisp air reaching fingers all the way to where he sat by the fire, nursing an ale.Upon later reflection, Vorstag realized that her dramatic entrance was more due to the brisk late autumn breezes that would sweep through Markarth than from any special effects on her part.But that initial impression of her remained. 

She was thin, almost painfully so, something that her thick brown leathers couldn’t hide.When she lowered the hood, he saw that she had the dusky skin of the Dunmer; not too uncommon of a sight, especially for him as a traveled mercenary.She shook out her mane of pale, silvery hair, and he saw the moment she sized up the inn and all of its inhabitants —a straightening of her back, and a haughty tilt to her chin.He took another sip of ale.Usually arrogant, those Dunmer.He’d worked with his fair share of them before, some of them honest, a lot of them not.At the wrong end of his blade, they’d all bled the same as any Nord.

She swaggered up to where Kleppr was polishing the bar, her words too soft for him to hear, as she slid a coin across the counter.Another sell-sword, perhaps?Or after employment from the Silver Bloods?A bow and quiver were slung across her back, a dagger glinting at her side.A thief, perhaps, then, and squishy, to boot.He snorted into his cup as he took another swallow, turning back to the fire, the strange elf fading from his mind as the mead warmed his belly.

He was drawn out of his musing again by Cosnach’s gruff holler, slurring out the challenge for a brawl.Setting his cup down, he stood, sighing in that resigned way of one preparing to break up a fight.Cosnach had gone too far, this time, challenging a woman like that—

But to his surprise —and increasing curiosity—the elf flexed her fingers, adjusting her gloves as she flashed a wicked grin, her teeth glinting in the firelight.He heard Kleppr’s resigned, “Just don’t get any blood on the bar,” before Cosnach closed the distance with a solid right hook.His fist passed through empty air.

She was nearly as tall as the Nord man, but definitely faster, and Vorstag folded his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall to watch it all play out. 

He counted five stout blows landing to her face, but for each one she dealt at least seven more, and in no time, Cosnach was peering up at her from the floor, grinning in that deranged way of his as he wiped his lips.“You won fair and square.Best fight I’ve had in a long time, elf.”She flashed that feral grin again as he handed over coins —just how much had the drunk bet? —and limped his way out the door, for his pride and to sober up, Vorstag surmised. 

Picking up her gear, the Dunmer woman looked around the inn again, her gaze settling on him.He looked around belatedly for Frabbi, realizing that as intriguing as this woman was, he didn’t have nearly enough mead for this, at this time of night. 

She helped herself to the seat across from him, sliding her weapons and satchel onto the floor beside the chair.Vorstag raised an eyebrow, smiling despite himself.“You really gave Cosnach a good one.”

She looked pleased with herself, her red eyes dancing from the light of the embers.Her chin was still angled in that haughty way, the skin of her face smooth, and burnished by the glow.He wondered how old she was. 

She watched him for a moment through narrowed eyes, before she said, “You seem like the type to have seen a few brawls, yourself.”Appraising, that was the look in her eyes.“You’re a mercenary?”

Her voice wasn’t course or deep, like some of the other Dunmer women he’d encountered.It was…cultured, that was the word… soft, but a bit throaty underneath.He raised the flagon to his lips again, speaking around the rim.“Some call me a mercenary, but I like to think of myself as a 'freelance adventurer for hire'.”

She grinned again.“Pretty words. From a Nord.”

Baring his teeth, he rejoined with, “Mellifluous.That’s your voice.”

Her nose crinkled up, and a startled laugh escaped her lips.“And intelligent, too.I see that your wit may be equal to your brawn, hmm?”He noted how despite her haughty airs she was fine with flirting with a Nord.Still leaning back in the chair, she added, “I happen to also be a more-or-less adventurer for hire, myself.I have recent business in Markarth, and would benefit from a companion who knows the Reach.As well as someone who is able to make sure a damsel like myself doesn’t stay in distress.”

He snorted, leaning forward on his elbows.She was something else, alright.“You hardly seem like a damsel, miss, but if you’ve got the gold to pay my fee, my sword-arm is yours.”

She grinned, all teeth this time.“I’ve got the coin; just name your price.I’m staying the night here, and plan to venture outside of the city tomorrow.If you’re interested in joining me, we can handle the particulars in the morning.I find the evening is wearing on me.”

He ran an eye over her, noticing the layers of road dust on her leathers and the slight rings around her eyes.Grunting, he nodded.“’S alright with me.”

“Good.I’ll see you in the morning…” She looked down at him as she stood, one eyebrow cocked in inquiry.

“Vorstag.”

“Irvdryn Indoril.In the morning then, Vorstag.”Without any more preamble, she shouldered her packs and disappeared down one of the hallways.Vorstag turned in his seat, slightly bewildered by this new Dunmer woman.As he swung back around to the fire, he couldn’t help but wonder —with no small thrill of excitement— what he’d just gotten himself into.

* * *

That excitement turned into disbelief and profound annoyance the morning of their second day together.Clearing out a mine and investigating a few caves around Markarth had kept them close, so Indoril had kept their rooms at the Silver-Blood Inn.But this morning, she was no where to be found.When he grew tired of hearing no response to his knocks on her door, he pushed open the door —to Oblivion with supposed propriety — only to find all of her belongings there.

Frowning, he backed out of the room, padding over to where the barmaid was sweeping near the fire.“Hroki, you haven’t seen that Dark Elf woman—Miss Indoril—this morning, have you?”

Hroki straightened, resting her hand on the broom handle.“Afraid not, Vorstag.But at this hour, no one’s come in or gone out, besides Ma coming back from the market.”Her eyes narrowed slightly as she added, “She didn’t just leave you, did she?”

He released his breath, scrubbing a hand down one cheek.“Aye, she did.But her things are still in her room.”His puzzlement grew, and with a grumble tossed over his shoulder he said, “Thanks anyway, Hroki.Maybe she left behind a note, at least.”

Returning to Indoril’s room, Vorstag took more careful stock of her belongings that he could see.Her bow and arrows were still there, as well as her apothecary’s satchel.A cursory pawing through of her larger satchel yielded many potions recipes, and other sealed notes that he couldn’t bring himself to read; her business was her own, and none of his.His eyes caught on the book resting near the bed.Some volume of _The Real Barenziah_. 

Something was sticking out of the pages. 

Bending down to pluck it out of the book, he couldn’t help thinking _If this IS a note, who leaves it in the middle of a book?_ However, upon unfolding it, his face paled.

On the page was a large handprint in dark paint, underneath which was written a chilling _We Know_. 

Now, as a mercenary, Vorstag had encountered many good folk as well as a very many bad folk, and yesterday he had pegged Indoril as the ‘good folk’ category, if not a bit mysterious and hard to read.He wasn’t one to judge, but what was a ‘good folk’ like her doing, involved with the Dark Brotherhood?A knot formed in the pit of his stomach; even though he’d already been paid his fee, he wasn’t keen on breaking contracts, and even less so about people absconding with his employers, Dark Brotherhood or no.

In his travels, he’d heard small whispers and tales of an abandoned shack up near Morthal, shrouded in mist and echoing screams in the night.Not one for ghost stories, he’d asked one of the bandit groups he’d been hired with once about it.The chief had stopped and made sure to lower his voice before saying that it was a Dark Brotherhood spot —not a hideout, but a place to kill targets and innocents alike.He’d tried to stay away from the marshes before then, and even more so, after hearing that rumor, not keen on the smell, or the eerie howls, or the business of outright murder.

But at least now he had a place to start looking. 

* * *

Irvdryn made it three yards before she collapsed, the loamy soil soaking into the fabric of her gloves and knees-guards.She gasped for breath, great lungfuls of air fragrant with rot; she was sure she imagined the iron tang around the edges.Finally, sitting back on her feet, she looked around her, sure she was past the danger of being sick. 

She’d killed before, sure—mainly in self-defense, or to clear out bandit holes.But the Guild had never asked her to assassinate someone in cold blood, and that’s exactly what she’d done—twice now, when she’d been asked.With Grelod.With that Khajit in the shack.She didn’t let herself dwell on whether or not they’d deserved death, and if it had been her right to kill them.

But something felt fractured, deep down.Ever since listening to that damned boy in Windhelm, and killing the old crone, she’d been looking over her shoulder, sure that eventually what she’d done would catch up with her, sure that another assassin would ambush her and finally take her out.She’d been scared stiff by the time she’d reached Markarth to get those Falmer rubbings for Gallus’ journal, and had swaggered into the inn there on a mix of adrenaline and devil-may-care terror.And that hulking mercenary, Vorstag—

Vorstag.He’d be thinking she’d broken their contract now, after such a pleasant day of exploring the area around Markarth, and she wouldn’t blame him one bit. 

Soft whimpers sounded behind her, and in the still, early morning air she heard the unmistakable sounds of flesh dropping to the floor.She pivoted on her heels, anger momentarily shadowing her lingering fear, and she made to stand before realizing that all she had with her was the elven dagger she’d used in the shack.That bitch Astrid had still killed the other two in the shack, and she knew that she was in no shape to go in there and avenge them; she’d only get herself killed.

Instead, she needed to get out of there, to clear her head. 

Not even having her map, she glanced up at the rising sun.Solitude lay to the west, the nearest place she knew for a carriage.She took off at a loping trot until she reached an embankment, slowing as the marsh began in earnest.The buzzing of insects began to fill the air, despite the brisk air, and she tried not to think about what other things lurked in the mist and chill, fetid water. 

When she reached solid ground again, she picked up speed, narrowly avoiding rolling an ankle in a pothole that loomed suddenly.Unchecked, her thoughts sped up to match the beating of her heart, and suddenly all she could hear were the wails of Grelod and the Khajit as she killed them, see the blood pooling—

She hit the ground hard, and the impact broke off her downward spiral.She heard, distantly, a shout, and the dread rose up anew, until the word registered through the haze.

“Indoril!”

She could just make out the looming shape of a man wading rapidly towards her, the shape resolving into Vorstag.The expression on his face was unreadable, but when he reached her he crouched down, hands gripping her shoulders.

“By the Nine, Indoril, are you all right?”His eyes were flinty, and she half-hoped that not all of it was directed at her.

She managed to murmur something, before he brusquely stood and pulled her to her feet.Although she was nearly as tall as he, she had the impression that he positively dwarfed her in this instant.With great effort, she shut off the wailing in her head and dragged some semblance of her earlier mask of bravado into place.“How did you find me?”

He scrubbed a hand down his face, faintly smearing the paint there.“I found that note in your room, and had heard rumors about the Dark Brotherhood having a place here, and thought that this was at least the right place to start looking for you.”He gave her another look.“I’m not in the habit of letting my employers get into trouble they can’t get themselves out of.”

She nodded, somehow remaining stoic.“I’m extremely thankful that’s the case.”She noticed for the first time a second, smaller pack in addition to his own. 

Seeing her gaze, he handed it over.“I wasn’t sure what state I’d find you in, so I brought some essentials.”Healing potions, mostly, as well as some linen wrappings and food.“Hroki saw that the rest of your belongings were locked up tight, waiting for you at the inn.”

Shrugging the light pack over her shoulders helped to ground her, a familiar act.“Thank you, Vorstag.”As he opened his mouth, she jerked her chin.“I don’t want to talk about it just now.Let’s just focus on getting back to Markarth.”To soften her words she added, “Think I just need some time.”

He grunted, his voice gruff as he said, “I’ll follow you, then.”


End file.
